Category Archives: DIY

lace doily light fitting for a cousin

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Well, I’m back home. Back to Wind Dancer Farm, back in Tasmania, back to my own little family. Its good to be home despite the fact that it means no more lying around on a beach, no more Paros, no more mom and cousins around me.
The trip was good, considering it was LONG and the seats on airplanes these days are made for height challenged individuals with eating disorders.
Seriously.
Have you ever tried sitting in one of those seats for 14 hours straight?
If you’re of ‘average’ height and you try to slouch in your seat you end up kneeing the seat in front of you. They used to have foot rests under the seat in front but they’re gone, ensuring that if you stretch out your legs, the seat has a sort of tourniquet effect, cutting off circulation to your lower legs. The new, improved individual monitors are a great idea… till you realize that you don’t actually enjoy having a screen 12in from your face. And that if the person in front of you leans his seat back, the monitor barely misses scraping your nose. You used to be able to say “excuse me” and sort of squeeze past the people sitting beside you if you needed to get up, all they had to do was sit up and pull their legs back. Now you have to get everyone to get up and pile into the aisle, or what passes as an aisle, so you can get out. Heck, even getting in and out of your own seat required contortions reminiscent of a pretzel if the person in front of you has the seat laid back. I remember being able to get up and walk the aisles during a long trip and loiter near the back of the plane doing stretches. This trip four of us were standing in line near the toilets and had to dodge stewardesses and serving carts… Bet they were pleased to have us in their tiny work area.
Hey. I know I’m older. I know I’m no longer as flexible as I was, but even if I still had the figure of my 20s, I still wouldn’t be able to squeeze past my co-sardines’ legs or lean back without touching the seat in front of me.
On the positive side, the food is a whole lot better than I remember.
So, I’m back home. The tan is fading fast and jet lag is keeping me up when I should be asleep… thought I’d share my last big project on Paros before life goes back to normal and the blog goes back to being about living on a farm with poodles and other critters. (I don’t mean Wayne.)
The lace doily light fitting in little Zef’s bedroom.
When I first got to Paros my aunt Marisa was all set on getting me to make a lace doily lightshade for Zefi’s bedroom. She had seen one of these in a shop and wanted one badly. Only difference was, the one my aunt loved had a wire frame inside.
Great idea if you have a wire frame. A very round balloon and tons of glue could also make this but it wouldn’t hold well in damp conditions I was betting. I started looking for alternatives.
I saw a rusty trap similar to this at Souvlia but it was bent beyond repair. I did find a new one for sale eventually (in a fishing shop, go figure!) but by then I’d moved on…
What I decided to do was build a kind of chandelier doily and lace light using 2 of the sieves I’d seen previously at a grocery store.
I went and bought a couple of these little beauties, limed them white and got a friendly uncle with a drill to make holes for chains.
I then started planning how to place and sew on the doilies and lace without cutting or ruining them, as per aunt Marisa’s instructions, and without aunt Marisa watching my every move and making suggestions as to how to do it better…

I ended up using quite a bit of old curtain (since I was allowed to cut that) as an under-layer, then layered and joined the doilies over that. I embellished it with ribbons and buttons and pieces of lace.
Only one doily was hurt in the making of this light shade… it was just too big and I really wanted to use it.
I was working in Zefi’s place, hiding from aunt Marisa… when she walked past and saw me. First words out of her mouth were “Oh, you cut that doily” before Zefi hustled her off with threats to her life if she said another word.
Zefi and I searched every hardware store on Paros to find the right chain. She was the one who found the perfect one – large links in bronze.
We’d also asked Andreas (Zef’s husband) to see what he could find in Athens and he’d brought us some silver chain. In the vein of waste not want not, I thought we should use the silver chain as well. I secured the chains to the sieves with wire and hid the silver chain with lace ‘sleeves’ made from the old curtain hems.
That way I didn’t have to sew any more than necessary!
I had to buy a pair of wire cutters to cut the sieve for the light fitting to go through, but that was easy enough.
Lastly, while Zefi was at the beach I climbed on her bed, and with her daughter Marouso’s help, put the light up on the hook already in the ceiling, fed the light through and replaced the globe.
Let there be light!
It came up pretty good even if it does look like an upside down wedding cake!
Payment for this: some very old doilies and a gorgeous old cut lace curtain.
Thanks guys! My next trip will be longer so I can plan on working for part of it! 🙂

z

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Keeping It Simple

dragonflies on paros

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I wanted to show off another hanging thingy I made out of found objects. The rusted lattice thing was found by my cousin Zefi’s son, Giorgo. He’s turned into quite an asset as a scavenger! Plus he’s interested and quick to learn anything you want to teach him. 

The shells and stones were in a basket in Zefi’s small garden area, the beads came off a broken bracelet my aunt Marisa had kept. The dragonfly is made of a rusty bolt I found in the garden, a shell, a button and wire I’d bought at one of the local hardware stores.

Trust me, I’ve explored every single hardware store on Paros!

 

The rusty washers came from the traditional bamboo cane trellis which blew off over winter. It was replaced by timber boards painted white. It looks amazing.
The old traditional bamboo roof was dark but this has brightened the place up, allowing more light into the house (which is a converted old garage) and providing good shade for sitting during the day.
z

making do and interesting things

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 My cousin Zefi’s house in the commune that’s known as ‘Souvlia’ used to be the boat shed and garage. It was built on a slope so the front is a couple of steps down. As a result its darker than most of the houses on Souvlia, but no cooler. In fact, being at the back of the block, with other buildings as windbreaks, it doesn’t get the full force of the wind – great when you want to sit on the porch for a drink, terrible if you want a cool breeze to cool down.

Despite that, Zefi has made it into a gorgeous place. Thanks to her mom’s fossicking, her husband’s good taste and Zefi’s practical mind, the place is pretty, traditional and totally user friendly.

I love her old island couches. I’ve tried to find this type of couch in Australia as its the ideal outdoor couch. Its not so comfy as a living room couch, but so pretty.

I love the big dresser as well, in the traditional dark timber. Zefi’s grandfather on her mom’s side used to be a carpenter and he made some beautiful pieces.


 I love the lace on the shelves inside the glass cabinets.  My aunt Dora has it in her kitchen in her house as well.

 One thing I love to do when I’m here (or anywhere for that matter) is look at shops. I love looking at shops. Sometimes I see things I want to buy, something I see things which inspire me. Whatever. I love to look at shops.

In the market street in Parikia there’s a traditional old homeware/grocery store. Its been there as long as I can remember. They now sell more stuff to tourists than to locals I’m sure, but its the only place I saw one of these:

 Its apparently a dough bowl of some sort. You put the bread dough in it to rise. I find myself needing one of these… I never make bread, but I’m sure I’ll find a good use for it.

I also love these things:

Sieves of all sizes with all different wire thicknesses… from flour sieves to lentil and bean sieves. Pretty cute.

At the other end of the shopping scale are the home decorator stores… not very different to the type of stuff I see in Australia. Still pretty displays and colours though.

Colourful outdoor cushions with jute and bling tassels and fish, naturally.

Burlap mini cushions and a jute string bowl on a lace table runner.

A beautiful simple white bowl.

A rope and sailcloth lamp.

Table centre piece of sea urchins minus spikes, shells and starfish.

I found an antique/second hand shop which has some beautiful things in it but this one was right up my alley: old windows with photos in them.

 

I even found a shop which sells marble things. Like a marble sink… why have a ceramic butler sink when you can have the real thing? And this slab of carved marble which you can put in your garden and run a tap through.

 A tap like this! Isn’t this a beauty?

Or, if you prefer, you can buy marble columns. Cause no house is complete without marble columns.

 

 Of course, there are tons of places which are done up beautifully whether they’re shops or cafes or restaurants. Sometimes its something simple like these fish at a taverna by the sea:

Sometimes its way more elaborate, like the boat/couch at this bar in Parikia.

And these door coffee tables.

There just aren’t enough door or window signs though, like this one on a closed antique shop.

 

And I love this sign on a cafe.

I haven’t been inside many hotels, but the couple I have been into have some interesting items in their lobbies and bars. Like this lamp …

This wooden trough is now a frame for a wooden boat.

Obviously made by the same artist, this boat wall clock at the Paros Bay Hotel.

And a ton of these fishing boats.

This is my favourite. I love the humour in the little paper sailboats.

A couple of little shops in Naoussa, a small town on the other side of Paros, have gorgeous displays. Right up my alley.


 

Closer to home, I found some interesting ways to deal with the small issues life throws at you. This is my uncle’s solution to the wind taking his umbrella along with the small table.

It might take up a bit of table space, but it works.

My fish bowl has a new spot among the shell collection in my aunt Flora’s kitchen.

The oven in the main house has a dodgey door, so the kokones (a name we call the aunts) have found a simple solution.

Aunt Marisa has found a cute way to cover the electricity panel in the hallway using a hand woven mat.

In her house a little down the road, my aunt Dora has a small corner where she keeps her ancient sewing maching, which she still uses, and a few items from her mother’s house.

You can always tell a greek house, cause there is always an icon somewhere in it. I now have my own icon, my very first. My aunt Xeni gave it to me. I’ll have to find a spot in my home for it when I get back. My decor will be shabby-greek…

Love the old irons with the big base to hold hot coals.

z

my aunt the recycler

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I’ve already mentioned my aunt Marisa, the collector. She’s collected all kinds of things over the years.
In fact, it might be more accurate to say she never throws anything away if it has sentimental, historical or potential value.
She’s been going crazy since I got here, getting me to make things for her, asking my opinion of this or that, and generally making a pest out of herself. I’ve taken to avoiding working within her field of vision.
Ok. She’s not that bad. And I do love the stuff she’s collected. The only thing is, her imagination and mine don’t always meet in a harmonious blend. At least we both like similar raw materials.
This is her bedroom at Souvlia (the family home on Paros).
The bed is an Ikea bed, not an original, but it suits her style. Everything else in the room is old and has some story to it.
This lamp had a dark green lampshade on it with gold trimming.
Yuck.
So aunt Marisa asked me if I’d cover it in doilies for her.
Remember the doily post? Well, suffice it to say, this lampshade has been covered in cut up pieces of old curtains and lace.
Three old lace curtains to be exact. Two of them are old but not antique, with no particular sentimental value. The other one, just visible on the left hand panel, is a curtain my grandmother gave her many years ago which has been ruined by years of sunlight. I had to patch a small hole on it using a rose cut from one of the other bits of curtain.
By using part of this old curtain in a lampshade, my aunt can retain the curtain and still have the memories of it.
She made these cushions for her bed out of things she hoarded kept after they were deemed to useless and were going to thrown away.
One of them was from my neice Alex’s baby bed. The cushion had worn thin but my aunt kept the lace edge so she could re-use it. The other one was some other baby’s pillow, I just forget who…
The ‘throw’ on the end of the bed is in fact an old curtain she’s trimmed down and edged. The bedspread is an old thin woollen blanket she’s added a lace edge to.
The cushion covers are made of old linen and and old petticoat she used to wear in the 60s. When the petticoat wore out she kept the lace… and its made a reappearance on her bed in 2013 in the form of pillow covers.
Pretty amazing.
There’s an old chest in the room, probably something my aunt found on the side of the road… she’s found the most amazing stuff people have thrown away…

On top of the dresser is an old linen towel visiting friends had left behind many years ago. My aunt added lace to it and made it into a pretty dust collector.


If my aunt was a blood relative I could say it runs in the family!
z

shabby on paros

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As you know, my thia Marouso (aunt Marisa) is a collector (little Zef would call her a hoarder). Ever since I got here she’s been lamenting that I’m not in Athens where her ‘stash’ is. However, she’s done quite well despite that. 
One of the things she found for me was this old spool. “I’m sure you can make something out of this,” she said.
Of course I can.
A photo holder. Though ideally you need the right photos to display. Something like that one of my great grandmother…
Or like the ones I’m taking with me when I go back to Australia… photos of mom and dad when they were young, old black and whites with crinkly edges.
Forgive the blurry photos. I don’t have my lightbox and have to make do. I’ll just say its artistic, the blurry effect makes the photo more nostalgic and romantic.
Yep. That’s what I’ll say.
And btw, just so you know, I’ve managed to extract a promise that thia Marouso will leave me her collection of goodies when she turns up her toes.
Not a hard thing to do as it turned out – little Zef is more than happy to unload it on someone else. Of course, the women in this family are long-lived… I’ll be too old to do anything with it by the time I get it.
Still, I’ve seen a sample of the kind of things my aunt collects. She’s got things in unopened boxes from the early 60s. She has embroideries and doilies made by her grandmother…
Of course, she has all these things locked away in chests and drawers. To keep them safe.
I say, what’s the point of that when you want to see and enjoy them… I love the whole repurposing thing, to me an object from the past is good cause you can use it to create something that you can enjoy now.
I’ve been making my aunt a lampshade for her bedroom. She’s seen people make light fittings out of lace and doilies and wanted something like that for herself.
Terrific. Yes, I can make it for you.
Just give me the doilies and lace.
So she brings out a stack, unfolds them and shows them to me:
This is an old curtain your grandmother gave me.
This is a doily given to my by and aunt.
My mother made these laces etc.
You can use these, would they work?
Oh, but don’t cut them.
And don’t use glue. I don’t want them ruined.
Umm, I don’t want it too lacey. I like it stretched tight.
I’ll help you sew cause I don’t want to tire you.
That’s too tight. I can’t sew it tight like you can.
Did you make that rusty wire heart? Its so cute.
You can’t put that on the lamp shade. It’ll rust the lace.
You know, don’t use that doily on there. I don’t want to ruin it.
And don’t use that one either. Its part of a set and I’d rather you made something out of those four together so you don’t separate them.
Cause I bought them in Griffith in 1965.
Oh, I like that. Aren’t you clever?
But… what if we did it this way?
You know, I was thinking you’d make it like this…
Look what I found! Another doily!
But you can’t use that on this. You can use this one on Zefi’s light fitting.
How are you going to do Zefi’s light fitting?
Sieves?
Are you sure?
Well, you’re the artist. You do it your way. I won’t talk.
Hmmm, that’ll be nice.
But I was thinking it’d be like this…
Oh ok. You do it your way. I’m sure it’ll be nice.
Are you going to use these doilies on Zefi’s light fitting?
Don’t cut them! I don’t want them ruined.
How did you cut the lace for the lamp shade? 
Can you give me the pattern?
How did you make the pattern?
Can you cut me the panels and I’ll sew them.
Here, I’ve ironed all the doilies for you.
You can use this, this and this.
And this.
But not this. I’ll keep this one.
And this one.
Actually, I’ll keep this one too.
You can cut up the old curtains for her light fitting.
 
Sure, thia, it can be a doily light fitting without doilies.
Sure.
Whatever you say.
Your doilies, your lace.
No, I’m not offended at all. Its your lamp shade. You can have it however you want.
Its fine. I can work with curtains and not doilies.
Yeah, whatever you want.
No I’m not upset. I’m just reading FB and not paying too much attention to you.
Sure. I’ll do it.
Leave it there and I’ll fix it.
Yes, you can use the same pattern for a smaller lamp with the same shape, just don’t add extra for seams.
Not a problem, I love doing things for you.
Yep. I can do that.
Sure thing thia.
And it goes on and on.
She’s not my mother and I yet I still want to strangle her at times.
At least my mother doesn’t ask me to make her something creative and then dictate how to create. 
She just asks me to hang out washing, bring in washing, move furniture and likes to point out the same landmarks and houses every single time we go past and tell me what they are and who they belong to, despite the fact that, not only have I heard the story 500,321 times, but  I lived here. I grew up spending every summer on Paros.
sigh.
Just last night she was giving directions to little Zef:
You go up the road toward Aliki. At the Monastery intersection you turn left, then first left again. The road goes up past my cousins Mitso’s place on the right and his brother Dimitri’s place on the left. You come to a crossroads. The right leads to Giorgo, Dimitri’s son’s, house, the one to the left goes to my nephew Kosta’s place, he’s built a beautiful house there. On the other side of the road my entire family has property…

Thia, I just need to know which road to take. I don’t need to know who lives where!
Ok, ok, you go past the intersection and you get to a big house, build by Spiro, my mother’s godfather, of course he’s long dead, he left it to his daughter Eleftheria and her husband Niko and their 2 children, of course they’re grown up and married now. Each with their own family… Well, at the end of that property is a small church that my great grandfather’s uncle built….
You get the picture.
Ah the joys of family.
z

rusty barbed wire heart – creating on paros

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Seems my reputation has preceeded me…
I arrived on Paros and my Aunt Marisa was all over me. She’d seen the windchime I’d given little Zefi, but he’s already been subjected to months of “Mom, come see what big Zef did”, so she was prepped and ready.
“Come and see what I have for you to make”, she said, and proceeded to show me her collection of STUFF. The doilies she’s had for years that her mother made, the old curtains, the collection of ribbons and things that will come in handy one day….

I hear an echo in here…
Did I ever mention my nieces?
I’ve never had kids, right? But I have tons of nieces and nephews thanks to my brother and the fact that I have 23 first cousins. 
And somehow, even though I haven’t had children of my own, I have somehow managed to pass on my genes…
My brother’s daughter is Maria. Apparently he often calls her Zefi cause she’s got my temper and my good looks. She’ll say “Dad, I’m Maria, not Zefi.” (ie Are you senile already?) He’ll reply “I know what I’m talking about.”
My cousin PG’s daughter is Alex. Apparently a carbon copy of me. In all the good ways: moody, stubborn, my good looks…
Little Zefi’s daughter Marouso way more beautiful than me… except for the fact that she’s a mad animal lover. Yesterday at the beach she found a kitten and brought it home. Little Zefi gave me the filthiest look. Its all my fault. Those are my genes popping up in the next generation.
I feel quite pleased with myself. I’ve managed to create Zefi carbon copies without having to worry about pregnancies or changing nappies!
But I digress… I was talking about my Aunt Marisa and her plans to harness my creativity to her own ends.
She keeps dragging things out of cupboards, neighbour’s yards and roadside bins for me. She has visions… “Look what I found. You can make something with this right?” “Fuzz (my nickname), I found this. I think we can make … but I’m only giving my opinion… its up to you… I’m just suggesting… you’re the expert… you tell me…”
The other night my hands got bored. I’d already bought some basic tools – a small set of pliers, some fine wire, a hot glue gun. 
I already had a box of odd and ends, bits of lace, a million buttons from the 50s and 60s, some old dessert forks, some rusty stuff I’d scavenged.
And a piece of barbed wire I took off a fence on the way to town.
I even have Little Zef’s son working for me now. Every day I come back from the beach he has another treasure or three for me. A rusty grill, some rusty tools, a key…
This heart hangs outside Zefi’s bedroom door: barbed wire, some old lace and ribbon, an old key, a small fork, rusty washers and a rusty door strike plate. I added some dry wildflowers as well this afternoon.
Its a pity I don’t have this ‘team’ with me in Tasmania. I could have a ton of stuff to work with if I had Aunt Marisa and little George foraging for me.
Just in case you’re wondering, I’ve already put in my claim… Aunt Marisa is leaving me her collection of STUFF in her will.
I guess I better get to work on the other projects awaiting me. I have to pay for my room somehow, right?
z

pallets and koureloudes

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What, you may ask, is a kourelou? (kourelou-DES being plural)
Its Grenglish for greek rag rugs. 
I love them! I want some to take back to Australia to make outdoor cushions out of like they did at the cafe/bar we went to last night.
How gorgeous are these? Take a standard footstool and cover it in a kourelou = instant cute.
And this? A built-in stone seat with kourelou covered cushions. Its ‘greek chic’ as opposed to ‘shabby chic’.
I forgot to take photos of the pallet couches lining the outside wall and its kourelou covered cushions. As it was I was walking around the bar taking photos of everything.
“Its ok…. I have a blog.”
Like having a blog gives me license to behave like a Japanese tourist.
But the bar was cute. They had pallets for everything outside. This big outdoor table/bench/thing.
 
The outdoor bar: 
 
The outside wall:
I LOVED the collection of old colourful trays on the pallet bench outside. They had them on the steps as well. I figure it was like a portable table, you grab a kourelou cushion and sit anywhere you want with a tray to hold your drinks.
Inside, the bar had some nice simple light shades which looked they were made from twisted cane painted white.
And the decor was a mix of modern, fashionable and the contents of old Aunty Evronia’s house.
The old wooden chairs were gorgeous. Distressed just right. The tables… not quite so good. Someone should have taken the sander out of this guy’s hand a couple of hours earlier.
I mean really. Shabby chic is all about making things look old, like they’ve been used for many years by generations of french peasants. Not like someone had an accident with a runaway grinder.
I loved the detail in the tiling though. Plain tiles on the floor and then a strip of mismatched tiles. Gorgeous.
Down on the corner of our street in Athens there’s a house which hasn’t changed since I was a kid. Its owned by some Boo Radley type family. Seriously. We were scared of the guy who lived here as kids. He’s now in his 60s and is still the same creepy guy he was then.
When I walked down to the bus stop yesterday he came out and kept staring at me… I thought maybe he recognised me so I said ‘good evening’. He said “What did you just say to me?” in the same tone of voice De Niro used when he asked “Are you looking at me?”
oops.
Better stay clear of him and his creepy house. I did, however, manage to sneak in this photo of their gate. I really really wish I could get into that place to see what’s in there… I bet they have tons of interesting stuff. I’d need a tetanus shot and maybe a bio-suit to go in there. It looks like no one has swept a floor since sometime before WWII.
This afternoon Petro and I managed to get my code or whatever from the local taxation branch (some people can’t afford to go on strike), only to discover my paperwork has the wrong birth date on it so there’s another thing I need to run around for when I’m back in Athens later. Oh joy.
I went to visit a couple of friends in the neighbourhood which was great. One of them is my godmother’s daughter. I remember her when I was growing up as someone who disliked dogs. She’s had dogs in her home, sleeping on her bed, for my last couple of visits now.
That’s one thing I DO love about the changes in Greece. People love animals here now. My aunt collects table scraps to feed the stray cats, every second person has a dog they treat like a human and you see people walking dogs everywhere. Its nice. I love that about the new Greece.
The other lady I dropped in to see is an old friend of mom’s. Her son and I were born 2 months apart and as babies we played together. We played together a bit as teenagers too, but that’s whole ‘nother story.
She was so sweet. Telling me how gorgeous I looked and how I looked prettier every time she sees me (her cataracts are getting worse) and that I look younger than her son. That was nice. It feels good to get compliments. 
I love some of these old ladies. They’re just so down to earth. She was telling me about how her son and daughter-in-law took her to one of the new-fangled restaurants where they give you all these glasses and cutlery and you’re too afraid to touch anything in case you use the wrong thing. She hated the food. They said she must try some spiced fig jam cause it was so good. Nope. She’d rather go to the local taverna where the food is real and they don’t put spices in the jam. Well, they don’t serve jam with meat, they serve tzatziki which is how it should be!
To my greek friends: Before I forget! You see that door handle on the blog header? I want one!!! If you know where I can find one, let me know!
z

the organised office

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I thought I’d start this post with a pretty photo…
On the weekend that just past I found myself with a spare couple of hours so I thought I’d clean up my office.
It was so bad I couldn’t bring myself to document it photographically. Lets just say that even the dogs avoided it. I think they were afraid that they’d get lost among the piles of stuff and would never be fed again.
Since I’m not a ‘do half-a-job’ kinda gal, I had to do it right.
That means, as we all know, make a bigger mess so as to reduce the mess.
In order to clean and tidy up, I had to move some things outside the office. Into the kitchen, the hallway, the bathroom and the guest room. Lucky Wayne wasn’t home.
In fact, that’s partly why I tackled this project at all, cause he was out! As it happened, he got home before I finished and tripped over the office chair in the entry, knocked some folders off the kitchen bench, and skinned his knee against the sewing machine in the hallway. Lucky he didn’t need to go into the bathroom or guest room cause that would have necessitated grapple hooks and pick axe.
No wonder the guy hates leaving me alone in the house!
See, my office is a small room. Not tiny, but small. Big enough to almost hold most of the bits and pieces I need for my hobbies.
Its also got a ton of furniture in it, including two filing cabinets – one is Wayne’s of course since we first set up the office to share…. I have since moved his office into a corner of the living room. 
I need all the space I can get!
So, two filing cabinets, stacked on top of eachother in a corner. An antique cabinet, a wall of shelves, a new cabinet with lots of small drawers, 2 desks (one is a real table, the other is a closet door), 2 old junior school desks, boxes, crates and suitcases.
You see the problem.
Though I didn’t want to show you how the office looked before I started, I’ll show you how it looked about halfway through:
I decided I no longer wanted the corner desk layout which took up two full walls. I moved the table under the window and took down the filing cabinet tower on my own (do not try this at home kids!) then pushed, heaved and persuaded the filing cabinets onto the right side of the room to hold up the door/desk.
Now… once I had some empty floor space I couldn’t help but look at the carpet. The filthy disgusting dog peed carpet.*
*Long story. I am not one of those dog hoarders who lives amongst dog pee and poop. I am a dog lover who has house trained dogs, but all dogs sometimes have accidents of the vomit variety. And my partner owned two un-house trained dogs which I brought into the house as part of the family. Thinking I could train them. I gave up after I found one pee stain too many in the office where they’d been sleeping. They were out but the carpet remained.
So, I did what any obsessed DIY-er would do. I started ripping up carpet.
Somewhere in the middle of this I thought to myself “I’ve done this three times before. Why am I doing it again?”.
The answer is simple. I hated the salmon, pee stained carpet. I want it gone. From every room in the house. But Wayne will kill me if I start ripping up the carpet in the living room when he goes out for an afternoon so I’ll do a room which doesn’t affect him…
Its not finished. Wayne came home so I had to start putting things back into the office or face a slow painful death. Plus I’d have had to move furniture again to expose more carpet to rip up and I was tired. I did manage to remove about 1/3 of the carpet.
The timber floors are old and rough, they will need sanding and polishing. I like the old look, but they will need a good clean and a coat of estapol or something to keep them clean. But it does look like a studio floor now!

Meanwhile I sorted out the shelves and made them prettier to look at by hiding away the ugly binders in  filing cabinets and putting documents and other stuff in suitcases and rustic containers.

Wayne’s antique map of South Australia still hangs above my desk.

I love my little square crate. I’ve had that one since Melbourne. For years it held my oil paint tubes.

I bought this little aqua bird in a dollar store cause I loved the colour and found this broken little wire thingy at the tip shop. They look good together till I do something else with the wire thing.
I bought this cloche at Target a few months ago, added in some sticks, a bird I bought at the Shabby Market, a real nest and one of our tiny chicken eggs. My burlap flowers sit in an old wire hanging plant basket. Sorry about the blurry photo…
This pottery measure thingy (that really is the technical term) was given to me by Merrill before she left for the mainland. I knew I could do something with it. Its now a jewelry holder.

All in all, it was a productive weekend!

z

beater halter hangers

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Am I the only one who remembers Tom Hanks in Bachelor Party chasing his girlfriend around with the egg beater?
I LOVE Tom Hanks.
But this post isn’t about who I find attractive (though if you really want to know, James Stewart, Jensen Ackles from Supernatural, Jeffrey Dean Morgan, also from Supernatural incidentally… )
Deep breath. Back down to earth.
Good.
In my “tackling the tack room” post I mentioned the beaters. And about re-using them to make a hanger for the halters for our tack room.
See, I’d been collecting these babies for a while thinking “one day I’ll do something with them”.
I used a couple in the mud room for hanging hats. Wayne used one on one of his robots. I spray painted some white. But for the most part they just lay there taking up space and not justiying their existance.
Last weekend when I ran out of hooks and anything bendy to use for hanging up tack I looked at the beaters once more and said “your time has come!”
The only hanging space left in the tack room by that point was the wall along the left hand side right near the door to the corral (or small horse yard… really a small sheep yard considering the casita was a shearing shed in its previous life).
Its a wall with exposed studs and no real place to hang things, so I put another of my handy timber slats up (leftover treated pine from our decking rennovation).
I then drilled holes in the pine, all the way through, for the various size beaters I had. Each beater had to be pushed (or pounded) in till it wedged snuggly.
Once done I hung up our collection of halters so they’re easy to grab as you head out the door.
And just so you don’t think I’ve forgotten Wayne’s input into the hanging racks, here is a photo of one of the bent spoon hooks he made.
I like the way the tack room is organised now:
– saddles ready to ride on their trestles
– extra girths, stirrup leathers & reins along the wacky wallpapered wall
– bridles near the saddle on a timber slat
– saddle blankets over saddles to keep off bird poop
– horse rugs airing out over the fences and slats.
Nice.
Orderly.
My mind is at peace in there.
Next job: tackle the workshop area…
z

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collecting junk on the porch

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On the weekend I finally got a bit of work done on the porch.

I had planned to have the entire porch (and house) painted by now, but oh well… them’s the breaks. I only got so far (to the high bits) before winter set in. Now its too cold and too damp to paint outdoors.

Oh gee…. guess I have to stop, huh?

So this weekend I moved everything back to where it was meant to be, instead of pulled out into the middle of the porch so I could paint.

Now that the sun isn’t an issue (lack of it might be soon enough) I could move some of the potted plants to the front of the house. They spent the summer cowering under the shadow of the casita. Seriously… the only thing that survived the heat on our front porch is a cactus.

I collected the rusty, galvanised and just plain old bits and pieces and put them near the front porch where the ground is uneven and ugly. Now its just a collection of junk covering an ugly spot.

I am not above some fake greenery till the real stuff grows!

I also to around to putting the louvre doors I bought eons ago (and painted to match the house) on the porch to hide the hot water cylinder.

I hinged them together, put a hook on each side to hook them to the wall to keep them in place, and to keep the wind from blowing them into the dam. Now I have a huge big louvre door ‘cupboard’ on the porch instead of a smaller round hot water cylinder…

Maybe I should have just painted the water cylinder.

Still, I’m nothing if not stubborn. I planned to put it there so I will darn well put it there and LIKE it.

I have tried to make it interesting by adding some more of my old tool crates (collections of old hand tools on shallow old crates). And hung a few interesting things on the louvres as well… More on that in another post.

Meanwhile we now have 2 separate sitting areas on the porch. One is for eating – hence the higher table… sporting another rusty item with fake greenery (heheh).

The other is the bright/navy blue adirondack chairs with their small table. These are for sitting and relaxing. If its warm enough. And not windy. And not rainy and windy in which case the rain gets blown right onto the porch.

The birds meanwhile are still here. They haven’t gone south for the winter. Or is it north when you live in Australia? I doubt they’d fly to the South Pole for winter.

Their presence has given rise to a new name for the porch – the poop deck.

z